VANCOUVER — There was Patrick Stewart, PhD candidate, defending his final dissertation before a handful of hard-nosed examiners at the University of British Columbia late last month. The public was invited to watch; two dozen curious onlookers saw Stewart attempt to persuade five panelists that his 149-page thesis has merit, that it is neither outlandishly “deficient,” as some had insisted it was, nor an intellectual affront.

Unusual? It is definitely that. Stewart’s dissertation, titled Indigenous Architecture through Indigenous Knowledge, eschews almost all punctuation. There are no periods, no commas, no semi-colons in the 52,438-word piece. Stewart concedes the odd question mark, and resorts to common English spelling, but he ignores most other conventions, including the dreaded upper case. His paper has no standard paragraphs. Its formatting seems all over the map.

“I like to say that it’s one long, run-on sentence, from cover to cover,” Stewart laughs. And so what? “There’s nothing in the (UBC dissertation) rules about formats or punctuation,” he insists.

A 61-year-old architect from the Nisga’a First Nation, Stewart explains that he “wanted to make a point” about aboriginal culture, colonialism, and “the blind acceptance of English language conventions in academia.”

In the introduction to his thesis, he writes that,

“in my defense my style of writing is not laziness or lack of knowledge of proper usage of the english language it is a form of grammatical resistance as a deconstructionist in the manner of many writers especially american poet ee cummings he graduated with a master degree in english from harvard university and they called him experimental and innovative not words likely to be used to describe an indigenous writer who breaks all the rules of writing (the behavioural ethics board at the university of british columbia suggested that i hire an editor as it appeared that i did not know the english language) times though they are changing”

Some people “thought this was great,” says Stewart. Others most certainly did not. “I was cautioned,” he recalls. “I was warned. I was told that some people just wouldn’t get it, that there would be roadblocks thrown up.”

I was warned. I was told that some people just wouldn’t get it, that there would be roadblocks

He wrote his first draft in the Nisga’a language. That failed to impress at least one senior UBC professor, a powerful figure who would eventually have to sign off on the work, or all would be lost. Stewart was called on the professor’s carpet and told his work was not acceptable. He was asked to translate “every word” of his dissertation into English. “So I did that,” he recalls. “There was still no guarantee it would be approved.”

And approval was crucial, of course. Without it, Stewart couldn’t complete his doctorate in interdisciplinary studies, which he’d been pursuing since 2010. It was his second attempt at a PhD; Stewart says he “ran into similar problems” in the early 1990s at UBC, while working towards a doctorate. He gave up, and concentrated instead on his architectural practice.

Working from the Sto:lo Nation in Chilliwack, Stewart has designed a number of high-profile buildings, including the Aboriginal Children’s Village, a unique, 24-unit residence for foster children and their families in Vancouver. Stewart used his own experiences — he was “born homeless” and grew up in a series of foster homes as a youth — to help inform the project’s design.

Ben Nelms for National Post

“The whole foster system needs an overhaul and this is a good start,” Stewart told the Vancouver Courier newspaper two years ago, when his children’s village was officially opened. “I went to eight different schools in 12 years. I didn’t have that stability of one spot.”

Returning to UBC the second time, he found on the campus a new emphasis on indigenous studies. Stewart decided to marry his professional and personal interests in architecture to indigenous cultures, and began his research. He had some enthusiastic supporters this time, including educational studies associate professor Michael Marker, who agreed to be one of his research co-supervisors.

It was a “very interesting experience,” Marker recalls. For some non-aboriginal UBC scholars, Stewart’s dissertation “was provocative, almost shocking in a sense. We had to make a very strong case for the inclusion of his approach.”

Ultimately, that meant more changes. Stewart’s writing style — the lack of punctuation, the gaps and spaces and poetic license — continued to grate certain professors. “I was asked to be a little more sympathetic to the readers,” he says. “Some couldn’t handle it.” To satisfy some of his critics, he began every thesis chapter with a short abstract, written in “standard academic English.” He refused to fiddle with the rest.

Stewart submitted his “long run-on sentence” dissertation in late February. His oral exam — his defence — came April 23rd. He was nervous. “There were five examiners present,” he recalls. “A bunch of people in the public seats. I had to justify my work. Was it intimidating? Oh, yes.”

Stewart spoke for 30 minutes. Then the examiners peppered him with questions. After two solid hours, someone finally called for a five-minute break. The questions resumed. Once that ordeal ended, Stewart and the audience were instructed to leave the room. The examiners had a private discussion. They voted whether to accept the controversial dissertation, or toss it out.

the phd candidate was called back inside the room he was told the vote was unanimous punctuation be damned he had passed